There is so much hiding behind those words.
“I’m not okay.”
They sound simple enough. But sometimes those words carry the weight of a thousand things left unsaid and undone. They carry the exhaustion of waking up every morning and immediately remembering. They carry the fear you try desperately to push down. The anger. The grief. The endless decisions. The bills. The setbacks. The things that still need to be finished (this is a huge one for me right now). And the relentlessness of it all …
And the overwhelming feeling that no matter how hard you work, how many phone calls you make or how many boxes you tick, you are still standing at the bottom of a bloody mountain wondering how the hell you are supposed to climb it. Sometimes, you get to the point where you feel as though you are breaking. Not because you are weak. Not because you haven’t tried hard enough. But because there is only so much weight one human being can carry before something inside them says, enough. Sometimes what is being asked of you is beyond what any human being could carry. And in those times, your body screams that it can’t go on anymore. And rightly so – it’s called self-preservation.
There are too many decisions to make. Not enough money to finish the jobs that need to be finished. Not enough movement from Government. Constant setbacks that knock you off your feet just as you thought you had finally found your footing. And the sense that you’re watching money and sanity both disappearing into a black hole.
There is the fear of what happened happening again. There is the anger that rebuilding isn’t happening fast enough. There is the exasperation that comes from discovering that some of the people you trusted most are nowhere to be found when you actually need them.
And then there are the constant reminders.
A burnt tree.
A photograph.
A smell in the air.
A news report.
A conversation.
A change in the weather.
That song …
Trauma has a way of leaving breadcrumbs everywhere. Just when you think you’ve found your way forward, something appears and rather unpolitely taps you on the shoulder and before you know it, you’re straight back to the moment everything changed.
And so, trust becomes harder. Your nervous system remains on high alert. Your mind is constantly scanning for danger. You are trying to rebuild a life while simultaneously being terrified that it could all be taken away again. And it is exhausting.
So today, it’s too much for me.
Today, I am angry. So angry that I can barely speak. I am terrified that another bushfire will rage through as the season races towards us. I am angry at the extraordinary amount of money everything costs. I am flabbergasted by the refusal of Government to provide what I believe are basic services and support. I am overwhelmed by the sheer amount of work still required to get our property even remotely close to what it once was (we are attempting to make it better whilst at the same time knowing fully that we are ridiculously underinsured). Confounded by how long everything appears to take. By the endless processes. The delays. Regulations. The uncertainty. The feeling that there is no finish line in sight.
And our bank accounts? They seem to be draining like a bathtub with the plug permanently missing. Sometimes, it just gets way too much. And you know what?
That is okay.
Last night, after being incredibly sleep-deprived and consumed by worry, I took medication to help me sleep. I also see a psychologist regularly. I am not ashamed to say either of those things. Asking for help is not weakness. Needing support is not failure. Taking steps to look after yourself when everything feels overwhelming is not something you need to justify. And rest is completely underrated.
I am not like this all the time. There are good days and they do outweigh these “not okay” days. There are moments of laughter. There is hope. There is progress – albeit not anywhere near enough in my opinion.
But healing is not a straight line, and rebuilding after trauma does not happen because the calendar says enough time has passed. Having said that, I honestly believed we would have been a lot further down the track than what we are …
Some days, you cope. Some days, you rise. And some days, you simply need to sit in the truth of where you are. So today, I am saying it.
I am not okay.
And I am okay with feeling every single feeling that comes with that. Because pretending otherwise would only add another weight to a load that is already too bloody heavy right now. Today, I don’t need to be inspirational. I don’t need to find the silver lining. I don’t need to have all the answers. I don’t need to be there for everyone else.
Today, I simply need to be honest. I am not okay. And for today, that is enough.